<br><br><center>*We're all put to the test... but it never comes
in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?*
― David Mamet</center>
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<br><br> My fiance, Lily, has disappeared and I'm forced to work with her father to try to find her.
The problem is that Frank Warner is an extremist—a survivalist who wants to retreat from the contamination of the world and survive what he believes to be the coming Apocalypse.
Ironically, he may be the reason why Lily has decided to run away.
<br><br> I was pacing my apartment trying to reason with a man who felt I was somehow responsible for Lily going missing.
“Look, Frank, we don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things but when it comes to Lily, we both want what’s best for her. Maybe we can put our heads together and try to figure out where she could have gone.”
Frank reluctantly agreed. “I suppose you’re right. I don’t like police. Hopefully, we can settle this without outsiders sticking their noses in where they don’t belong.”
<br><br> I suggested we drive back to Frank’s farmhouse in the Caledon Hills and scour the property for clues. As he had no other ideas, it seemed the most likely plan. I followed Frank’s muddy pick up in my ten-year old BMW coupe, hoping the rutted back roads to the farm wouldn’t damage my car’s suspension.
By the time we arrived at the farm, the sky was darkening and I realized a heavy rain would obliterate any traces of footprints outside. I suggested Frank make a thorough search inside the house while I searched the grounds.
<br><br> I looked around the farm and found it was in a reasonable state of repair—the farmhouse was neatly landscaped and sheltered by several oak trees and a short distance away was a huge barn with several outbuildings—all built from gray weathered wood, but as far as I could tell, well maintained.
Lily’s small red Honda Civic was still parked in front of the barn so I decided to check that out first.
As I approached the car I noted footprints in the sandy soil around the car—concentric ridge patterns that I recognized as belonging to Lily’s running shoes.
<br><br> Lily had recently purchased a pair of Nike Women's Dunk Sky Hi sneakers on-line from E-bay and we researched to make sure they were genuine. Among other things, I recalled the distinctive tread pattern of the soles.
The tracks led off in the direction of a footpath so I decided to follow as best I could. The path wound through knee-high feather grass.
As I trudged along the well-worn trail, a wind sprung up and rolled in waves through the long grass toward the darkening horizon.
<br><br> I walked for about fifteen minutes just following the track until it curved up an embankment and continued on clay ground through a small birch woods. The ground there was covered with decaying leaves and it was impossible to discern any footprints.
I came out on the other side of the woods at a ridge line that afforded a breathtaking view of the city in the far distance, but there, the track ended.
I walked along the ridge hoping the footpath might begin again but no luck. So I continued ahead regardless, walking in the same direction, meandering according to the natural topography and letting the land take me where it wanted to go.
<br><br> Eventually I ended up at a barb-wired fence of a neighbouring farm. It was certainly less than inviting. Nailed to several fence posts were painted signs shouting PRIVATE PROPERTY and NO TRESPASSERS.
I had little doubt the owner would enforce such warnings with a loaded shotgun. So I retreated in the direction of the farmhouse.
I had an uneasy feeling that Lily had not simply run off but was kidnapped and being held by extremists who were hostile to outsiders—if that were the case, Frank and I couldn't handle this on our own.
A dark cloud of despair settled over me as I trudged back to Frank's farm.
<br><br><center>© 2020, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>
<br><br><center>[ Photo]( https://images.app.goo.gl/QfPgjV29SXna9xEU7 ) </center>
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